Our Christmas Cookbook - 5. Bus Crazy

Bus Crazy

By Cole Matthews

I was looking at the festive colored street lights and boughs of greenery gracing the side of Nicollet Mall when I heard her for the first time.

“Oh. My. God,” she squawked. She being a middle-aged woman with salt and pepper hair done up in a bun. She was turned in her seat and speaking directly to me.

I didn’t respond, instead looking at her as patiently as I could muster.

“You look just like Russell Tovey,” she announced.

I could feel the burn on my cheeks as I noticed out of the corner of my eye that several other bus riders were now looking at me.

“I’m sorry,” I sputtered out. Immediate tension stiffened my back. “Who’s that?”

“You are the spitting image of him,” she said even louder now. She had a beaming smile on her wrinkled face that was heavily done up in makeup. Her bright, shining eyes were darkly lined and the green eye shadow was caked on thick. “I love him,” she added, quite pleased.

“Oh,” I said. I smiled at her without comment. I scanned the bus and saw the other bus riders now returned their attention elsewhere -- back to their phones and tablets. Relieved, I felt my shoulders relax.

“Are you related to him? Because you look so much like him,” she said with some confidence.

“I don’t even know who that is,” I said quietly.

“Oh,” she said in surprise, her eyes widening. They were a muddy brown I noticed. Not even remotely interesting.

She moved and a sickeningly sweet smell of flowers wafted off her heavy, quilted coat. “He was in that Being Human show. He was the wolfman and that other guy was the vampire. I love British television. It’s so much better than American shows, don’t you think?”

“I don’t watch much TV,” I said, trying to stop her flood of comments. I pointedly didn’t return her gaze as she continued. If you avert your eyes, it usually discourages them. Usually.

“American television always ruins good English shows like Being Human. What a great concept, a ghost, a vampire, and a werewolf living together and trying to make it in the world.”

I didn’t respond and bit my lip.

“Now, the only show that was better as an American show was The Office. Don’t you agree?” she asked me.

I waited to see if she’d take the hint and turn around, but she didn’t.

“You must see The Office on reruns. Millennials missed out on so many great shows.”

“I really don’t watch much TV,” I said quietly, hoping that would stop up the flow of words. This was a second strategy that usually worked.

“Sure you do. Your generation all pretends you’re too busy saving the planet and inventing new video games that you don’t have time to watch television. I know that’s not true.” She wouldn’t stop. “You guys watch it on Netflix!” she added loudly.

That was enough.

I stood abruptly and pulled the cord. “Stop requested,” the electronic voice intoned. I was at least six blocks from my office, but I had to get away from this crazy lady. She was driving me bonkers.

“Sorry, my stop,” I said to her and made my way to the front of the bus. I exited into the fresh cold air, and a flurry of snowflakes cascaded over me as another bus passed by.

***

“That’s weird,” Stan said, straightening the Christmas holly and poinsettia arrangement in the vase on his desk. I was commiserating with the only other gay guy in the office. We had a kind of alliance going on, not that the ad agency wasn’t supportive of all minorities, but sometimes it felt good to have another guy to talk to. “The unwritten rule is don’t talk with strangers on the bus and don’t comment on their appearance.”

“I know, right?” I said. “I couldn’t get away fast enough.”

Stan tilted his head and looked at me funny.

“What?” I asked, shaking my head.

“You do kind of look like him. He’s really very handsome though. Did you ever see him in The Pass? He was shirtless almost the whole movie. What a hottie!”

I puffed out my chest, “Are you saying I’m not good-looking?”

“Not Russell Tovey handsome,” Stan said wryly, but a there was a cheeky grin on his lips. “You’re more pretty, like Ryan Gosling or Brad Pitt than manly like Russell Tovey.”

“What a rude thing to say,” I said. “I’m here to tell you I’m plenty macho.” I placed my hands on my hips, completely betraying the words I used. Cocking my hip in a seductive pose, I then flicked back my hair.”

“What a queen,” Stan said, laughing at my show. “If you flame out any more, I’ll need to Stop, Drop, and Roll to extinguish the fire.”

That erupted laughter in me, and with him. We watched as a couple of guys walked past, looking at us in bewilderment. Stan stopped laughing and nodded at me.

“Enough of that.” I sat on the edge of his desk. “What are you bringing for the “Babes in Toyland” benefit?”

Every year the firm would have a buffet with the employees bringing in Christmas treats. Most of the others would chip in five or ten bucks to pick out a dozen cookies or bars. The money would buy toys for foster kids in short-term situations. It was a cause I considered very important for the holiday. I was one of the biggest advocates for this benefit, having had a foster brother who had it bad for so long.

“I’m bringing my grandma’s buckeye peanut butter candies,” Stan said. “What about you?”

I paused, pretending to think about it deeply. I’d decided a long time ago to make my lace cookies. They were suitably Christmas-y and seemed very intricate, but weren’t difficult, not really. Besides, I liked my treat to be a surprise.

“I’m not sure,” I finally said.

“Whatever you make will be delicious,” Stan said, grinning.

“See you later,” I said, standing up and waving as I walked back to my desk and the mountain of work awaiting me.

***

The bus was very full when it pulled up to my stop. Carefully carrying the bag with my container of delicate lace cookies, I maneuvered up the stairs into the only open seat.

I sat down and sighed, then panic began to seize me. I looked around and then breathed in deeply. The strange woman from last week was nowhere to be seen. It felt like I’d missed the bullet of her odd company once again.

In the days since the ‘episode’, I’d either avoided the nutty woman, or kept half the bus between me and her. I didn’t know why she bothered me so much, except she scared me a little. It worried me enough to ponder why.

When I’d discussed it with Stan, he said there are two kinds of crazy in the world. There’s normal, everyday crazy, which you can just ignore or shrug off.

Then, there is Bus Crazy. Bus Crazy is a special kind of nuts that is unpredictable, a little frightening in its depth and passion, and obsessive in scope. Regular crazy you can get away from so it’s not as potent or menacing. Bus Crazy is horrific because you are trapped in a small space and can’t readily extract yourself from it.

I’d finished ruminating on the delicate, yet important differences in crazy, when I heard the screech of the voice I so feared.

“Russell Tovey’s brother is here.”

I looked up and right in front of me was the woman, dressed in bright green pants and an orange coat. Her face was heavily made up, again, and I could smell a mixture of sickeningly sweet floral scents and her body odor. My muscles tensed, preparing for fight or flight. It was bizarre how much I was affected by her.

“You look even more like him today. Listen, I’ve been watching all his shows since we met and I swear, you have to be related,” she said, leaning down and into his face. “I watched Looking and The History Boys, and even that odd movie, The Hippopotamus. I did like him best in that television show, Quantico, but they canceled that now. He was so handsome in those shows. So sexy.”

I could feel the other passengers’ eyes on me, judging me, assessing me, from all around me. I couldn’t look up; it was that oppressive.

She continued, “Russell wasn’t in the first season of Quantico. He was added in the second season, but he was so believable, you know? I swear, you could be his twin, well, not his twin, maybe his brother, like I said.”

“That’s nice,” I said, not looking at her. “I really don’t know who—”

“Because, he has such distinctive features, like you. I think it’s his ears that are so remarkable, and his square jaw.”

I felt something rise up in me, and it suddenly came out. I couldn’t stop it, as much as I wanted to.

I stood and yelled, “Leave me alone you crazy bitch. I’m not this guy’s relative, whoever he is. I don’t care about your obsession with him. Please just leave me the fuck alone! Okay?”

I stopped and gritted my teeth as her mouth dropped open. Her eyes sparkled, and then tears came spilling out. She snorted and sobbed, her chin quivering. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out, and then stepped back. Brushing her face with the back of her hand, her lower lip jutting out, she squeaked and then almost ran backwards into the belly of the bus.

I sat back down, and then realized everyone was staring at me. These people were staring in shock at my outburst, which I realized was over the top.

“She wouldn’t leave me alone,” I said to those around me.

“Dude, she’s just a friendly old lady. Why couldn’t you let it go?” a guy my age said sitting across from me.

“Not cool,” someone else said.

“What an asshole,” a woman’s voice uttered.

Quickly, I exited the bus, once again six blocks from the office.

***

My phone rang and I looked at the caller. It was my mother, and I answered it quickly.

“How did the cookies go?” she asked after we greeted one another. “I bet they were a hit.”

“They were,” I said. “I managed to break about half of them walking down the street.”

“Why were you walking down the street?” she asked. “You take the bus, don’t you?”

“I had an incident,” I said.

“Really,” she said. “What happened?”

“Some old lady kept talking to me on the bus.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” she said. “Was she threatening you or something?”

“No,” I said slowly. “She annoyed me, and I kinda blew up.”

“That’s crazy,” she said. “You’re usually so tolerant.”

“I know,” I said. “Can we drop it?”

After long pause, she said, “Sure.” More silence interjected for a few seconds until my mom said, “So, I got a call from your aunt. They’ll be here for Christmas.”

“That’s great,” I said. “Are they staying with you?”

“No. Russ is coming as well, and they’ve rented hotel rooms. He’s got such a busy schedule so they decided this would be a nice time for a family reunion. You’ll be coming over for Christmas eve dinner to see them, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” I said. “I haven’t seen my cousin in quite some time.”

“I know. We’re all looking forward to it. Well, I should be going. Lots of work to do before they get here.”

“Bye,” I said as I hit end on my phone, and looked in the mirror. I really did get my looks from my mom’s side of the family, the Tovey side.

Hazelnut Lace Cookies

2/3 cup of lightly roasted and peeled hazelnuts

4 tsp flour

Grind in the food processor until fine

¼ cup butter

½ cup sugar

Pinch of salt

Melt sugar into melted butter.

Mix hazelnuts and flour with the sugar and butter adding:

1 tsp milk

Bake at 350 degrees on parchment paper. Measure out 1 tsp of dough per cookie. Watch very carefully as they will brown really quickly after spreading out a great deal. Once the cookies are removed from the oven, let cool before removing. After they are all baked, melt the following in a double boiler.

1 cup chocolate chips

¼ cup butter

Drizzle over the cookies and let cool until hard.